


Flu

by cryptidbf, Infinitefleurs



Category: Mafia (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 06:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidbf/pseuds/cryptidbf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinitefleurs/pseuds/Infinitefleurs
Summary: Lincoln takes care of a sick Donovan.





	Flu

It started with a harmless sneeze.

Donovan had thought nothing of it until that sneeze turned into another and then into a third until there was an impressive amount of tissues surrounding his work. Nevertheless, he kept at it, scribbling down everything that he caught on the radio even when his sneezing turned into sneezing and coughing and shivers so bad that he’d had to grab the comforter off of his bed to chase away the sudden cold of the room. He kept at it until he just _couldn’t_ anymore, head pounding and brain absolutely _scrambled_ from every violent sneeze, every chest-rattling cough.

So, with his face buried in his arms on top of the table, he breathes out a groan and wonders just how difficult it would be to make it to the bed instead. He doubts he’d be able to make it, but— he’s completely uncomfortable where he is. This is where if anybody was around to hear it, he’d probably start _whining_ about it; since there isn’t, he lifts his head the best he can and moves to stand on legs that feel like gelatin. He gets about two steps towards his destination before he outright stumbles to the floor and with another groan, he wraps the comforter around him even tighter, not even bothering to try to get up again. He’ll just have to die here. It’s his only option.

Or maybe not, as there’s knuckles rapping against the door— Lincoln, probably. Voice hoarse, he manages to say, “It’s unlocked.”

Lincoln’s barely opened the door when he sees Donovan crumpled on the floor, and just like that, he’s by the other man’s side in an instant. “Hey, what happened to you?” He asks, and it’s not hard to notice the concern that had slipped into his voice. When Donovan only groans in response, Lincoln reaches over to gently shake his shoulder. “ _John._ Don’t tell me you’re dyin’ on me.”

“M’not dying,” Donovan mumbles, managing to lift his head enough to look Lincoln in the face. He squints a bit; there’s two of him. Two Lincolns might be two Lincolns too many, but he also figures he wouldn’t complain if that was actually the case. With a laugh that’s more of a wheeze, he drops his face back to the floor, the pounding in his skull only worsening by the minute. “Just sick, I think. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Lincoln echoes, gently pulling Donovan into a sitting position before pushing a few loose strands away from the other man’s face. “Should I be worried that you ended up on the floor? Nevermind, I think I already am. You can’t stand, can you?” A shake of Donovan’s head and Lincoln sighs. “Were you tryin’ to get out of bed or were you still workin’?”

Donovan opens his mouth to speak— all that comes out is a cough that makes his chest ache. He breathes out yet another groan. “Still working,” he says, slumping against his shoulder. He doesn’t continue, not right away, merely burying his face in the other man’s jacket and staying like that for a minute. If it wasn’t for the full-body pain, migraine, and fever, he _probably_ could’ve managed to fall asleep, finally the _slightest_ bit more comfortable now that he was in Lincoln’s arms _._ “I finally gave up, but— well, I obviously didn’t get very far, did I?”

Lincoln hums, and he leans down to briskly press his lips to Donovan’s temple. “Huh. You’re hotter than a summer in New Bordeaux and you haven’t complained _once._ Guess you’re sicker than I thought,” he says, managing a small laugh. Nevertheless, he shifts so that he was able to pick the other man up, and he makes it to the bed with a few more steps. Another kiss to Donovan’s forehead once Lincoln had set him down. “You want somethin’ to eat?”

At the mere _thought_ of eating, Donovan’s face scrunches up in disgust. He shakes his head. “No,” he says, and he squeezes his eyes shut, pulling the comforter tighter around him again. “Why is the room so _cold_ ?” Shivers back in full force, he blinks his eyes open to all-but-pout at Lincoln. “Lie down with me. I’m freezing and you’re always like a Goddamn radiator.” A pause, as he shifts to hold the comforter up in invitation. “ _Please_.”

“It’s really not,” Lincoln tells him, suppressing another laugh. Nonetheless, he moves to lie down next to Donovan, placing his jacket aside before lazily putting an arm around the other man. “That feel better, you baby?”

Donovan hums, curling as close to Lincoln as he possibly can and laying his head on his chest. “Much,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter shut and just listening to the other man’s heartbeat. It’s incredibly relaxing— and for a minute, he completely forgets what else he was going to say. Well, whatever, it probably wasn’t important and it was hard to piece his thoughts together right now anyway. A weak laugh rises from his chest as he continues. “Good thing you found me, huh? It’d be a damn embarrassment if I died of flu on the floor of a motel room. I can only _imagine_ how my obituary would read.” He breathes in deeply. “Swear I’m fine, though. Just— weak. Sneezed too much, y’know?”

“Just weak, and here you are with the shivers and I _swear_ I could use you as a stove right about now.” Lincoln rolls his eyes, gently rubbing Donovan’s back in a soothing manner. “Anyways, I kept your ass alive over in ‘Nam, didn’t I? Who said I wouldn’t do the same now?” A small chuckle as he moves to pull the other man closer. “You work too hard. I haven’t been sick for a day in my life.”

Donovan scoffs. “ _Somebody_ has to do the work,” he says, shifting so he can lock eyes with Lincoln, chin still on his chest. He knows he probably looks all sorts of pathetic right now and his unwavering pout definitely isn’t helping. “I signed up for this, didn’t I? Made a promise to you and I’m gonna keep it.” He leans up to brush his lips against his jaw. Grossly intimate. “I mean, I don’t know if you know this, but as it just so happens, I’m in love with you and have been for a long while.”

“Oh yeah?” Lincoln quirks an eyebrow, pulling the comforter over them both. It was hot as _Hell,_ but if it made Donovan feel a little warmer, then so be it. “How long were you, exactly?” He chuckles, reaching up to gently pat the other man on the cheek. “Love you too, though.”

With a slight huff, Donovan rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, you’re gonna tease a dead man walking? Real cold, Linc, _real_ cold. Think I better be writing you out of the will before I kick the bucket and you get all my shit.” He shifts again to get comfortable, tugging Lincoln’s arms further around him before resting his head on his chest once more. “Glad to know the feeling’s mutual, at least. I worry sometimes.” Another weak laugh. “Stupid, I know.”

“What shit, exactly? You mean the stuff you use to snoop on people? Or you mean this dingy hotel room?” Lincoln jokes, and when Donovan gives him a look, he grins in response. “Hey, I’m just yankin’ you.” He leans over, gently brushing his lips against Donovan’s. “But you don’t gotta worry about anything with me, alright? I promise.”

Any other time, Donovan probably would’ve had an innuendo ready to go in response to Lincoln’s remark, but right now, he is _far_ too sick to even think of one. So, instead, he just moves as close as he can and relishes in the warmth of his embrace. “Good,” he mumbles. “Don’t know why you put up with me, but _good_ . I love you.” His fever is probably climbing even higher than it already was; he’s starting to feel just a _touch_ delirious. “I _love_ you  _so_ much.” It comes out more like ‘ _wuv_ ’ and _‘scho_ ’, vowels elongated on top of his slurring. “Did you know that, Linc?”

“I do, and I love you too, but—” Lincoln reaches over, gently placing a hand on the other man’s forehead. “You’re not gettin’ any better like this. Are you gonna let me get out of bed long enough for me to get you something for this fever?” Probably not, but Lincoln doesn’t wait for Donovan to answer before he’s gently pushing him back to bed. “I won’t be long.”

Whining softly, Donovan just gives him a pitiful nod. He has absolutely _zero_ energy to even try and argue with him, no matter how badly he wants him to stay by his side. “If you _have_ to. Check the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.” He scrunches up his face again, this time in thought, and he’s still slurring when he continues. “Should be something in there. Aspirin or— fucking whatever, I don’t know.”

“You really are sick, huh? You’d be pulling me back in otherwise.” Lincoln gets out of bed, reaching over to ruffle Donovan’s hair before making his way to the bathroom. Shortly enough, he comes back with an aspirin and a glass of water, setting it by the bedside. “There, should help.”

“God, I hope so,” Donovan says, propping himself up long enough to swallow the offered pills and chase them down with water. That’s about all he can handle and with a barely contained groan, he flops backwards on the bed once more. He definitely looks pathetic now. He knows it. “Again, I say: don’t know why you put up with me.”

“Thought I already said because I love you?” Lincoln quirks an eyebrow at him before moving back into bed. He then brings Donovan back to his previous position, letting the other man rest on him. “I swear, you get sick every month. Think I’m startin’ to see a pattern here.”

With a small hum, Donovan stays close. “Maybe you’re right about me working too hard,” he says. “Body probably can’t take all the— the _stress_.” He’s suddenly hit with a wave of complete exhaustion, eyelids heavy. He lets them slide shut with a yawn. “You’re gonna stay, right? I’m not gonna wake up and find you gone or anything?”

“I ain’t got anywhere else to go. I got all I need right here with me.” Lincoln reaches up, gently running his fingers through Donovan’s hair. “Besides, Vito’s got everything locked down, I got nothing to worry about. Well, besides you, anyways. I’m guessing you were already sick and you _still_ kept workin’.”

“Hey, I'm not dropping everything just because of a little sneeze,” Donovan says, and he yawns again. Something about people running their fingers through his hair always made him sleepy and he’d already been running on empty as it is. He shifts a bit, looking up at Lincoln with tired eyes. “I'll rest, alright? Long as you stay.”

“That wasn’t a little sneeze, was it? But yeah, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Satisfied, Donovan lets his eyes slide shut once more. “Better be.”

With that, he drifts off.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have a cold and this is what i do to cope. char helped. lov u char
> 
> \- aj


End file.
